


An Auspicious Introduction

by SerenadeStrong (ninja_orange)



Category: Society of Gentlemen - K. J. Charles
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-13 04:45:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12976224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninja_orange/pseuds/SerenadeStrong
Summary: Ash gets introduced to a certain Society of Gentlemen.





	An Auspicious Introduction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [betweenthebliss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/betweenthebliss/gifts).



> Thank you plalligator for alpha reading and betaing and generally being extremely generous with your time
> 
> betweenthebliss, I hope you enjoy the fic!

It was a usual night for them now. They were at Quex's, Ash drinking while Francis played deep at the tables. Ash was engaged in conversation with a few others but he kept looking over at Francis where he was deftly handling his cards and Francis kept glancing up, meeting Ash's eyes with a frigid look. 

A few weeks ago Ash would have bristled under that icy gaze. Now he knew it meant Francis was forcibly suppressing a burning desire. Ash licked whiskey of his lips and smiled into his glass. The sudden reversal of years of misdirected animosity was proving rather invigorating for both of them, and he suspected Francis wouldn’t hold out much longer.

True to Ash’s expectations Francis won his game and declined another, standing hastily and practically dragging Ash with him toward the back of the house, one hand digging in to Ash’s arm. In a briefly empty hallway Francis crowded close, whispering in Ash’s ear that he couldn’t wait. There was a bed upstairs and he meant to have him in it immediately. Ash melted on the spot, only Francis’s iron grip on his arm keeping him upright.

At the back of the house was a door with a footman in front of it.

“I want the private rooms tonight,” Francis told him. “No one else is up there are they?”

“No sir,” the footman said. “No one else is currently using the rooms, sir.” Then he looked at Ash. He _ahem_ ed uncomfortably. “Your guest though. I’m afraid he cannot be permitted upstairs.”

“That’s absurd. Let us up immediately.”

“I’m very sorry sir.” The footman did look rather pathetic. “Lord Richard’s orders.”

“Bugger Lord Richard,” Francis said, rather ungraciously. “Get me Shakespeare.”

Shakespeare appeared, calm and quite serious as he explained he would do everything he could to accommodate Mr. Webster’s wishes - except let Lord Gabriel up to the private rooms without Lord Richard’s express permission. And as Lord Richard had already left Quex’s for the night…Mr. Webster must understand.

“I see,” Francis said, his expression icy. “Let’s go Ash.”

Somewhat at a loss as to what had just happened, Ash followed him back through Quex’s. They left together and walked in the direction of Francis’s house. Francis lived alone but there were a few servants who lived in and they were greeted at the door by the butler even at the late hour. Francis led them upstairs, grabbing a bottle of whiskey on the way.

“Tell the staff not to disturb us, Charlesworth. And don’t wake me up in the morning, thanks. I’ll ring when the headache’s worn off.”

Francis poured them each a drink when they were safely behind closed doors in the personal sitting room that adjoined his bedroom. They had done this once before, ruffling the bed linens in the small adjoining room intended for a valet before calling for breakfast.

Ash sighed. “I suppose it would be nice not to have to walk all the way here for a fuck. Still, isn’t it a little dangerous to have a liaison at a place like Quex’s? It’s not exactly subtle is it, two men going upstairs to a bed. I’d be scared stiff the whole time someone would tell Lord Richard what we were up to.”

Francis’s lips thinned. He looked at Ash and then up to the heavens as if considering some terrible truth. Then he said, “Ash, Richard fucks men.”

Ash looked at him, stupefied.

“All of the Ricardians, in fact,” continued Francis. “It is the one requirement for membership. And Richard has arranged Quex’s to some degree for our comfort. Anything that goes on in the private rooms are absolutely private. It’s as safe as anywhere can be in this country. It’s why Shakespeare was so determined not to let you up without his say-so.”

“ _Lord Richard?_ ” Ash asked incredulously. “Lord Richard Vane, whose brother is a marquess. Are you joking?”

“No. I wouldn’t joke about that.”

“No, I know you wouldn’t. Still, _Richard_. And Sir Absalom and all the rest? My God.”

“You’re the son of a duke,” Francis pointed out. “It’s not as if it’s a disease of the lower classes.”

Ash colored, remembering Francis didn’t come from any notable family himself. “I know, I didn’t mean that. It’s a shock is all. I’m a good-for-nothing younger son; they’re all so distinguished and responsible. I picture Lord Richard giving speeches to parliament, not bending someone over in an alley for a good tupping. Mal would have an apoplexy if he knew that was what kept the Ricardians together.”

“Your brother had better never find out. And I don’t think Richard’s one for alleys, though I haven’t asked.”

Ash swirled his whiskey around in his glass. “So you and Richard haven’t had a tumble?”

Francis made a face like he’d tasted something unpleasant. “No, thank you. Not my type.” He sighed and tipped back the rest of his drink. “I didn’t mean to talk about Richard so much. It’s just that his word is law for us, particularly at Quex’s, and if we’re going to use those rooms I need permission. So I need to ask, Ash - may I tell Richard? About us?”

Ash opened his mouth to speak and had no words. He closed it again. He’d been fucking men - and being fucked - for years, and it had never crossed his mind to tell anyone he wasn’t currently in bed with about his preferences. He’d known his lovers would have to be kept secret before he’d really understood what he wanted. From his school days finding a helping hand in the dormitories he’d known it was wrong in the eyes of the world. That he wanted to be kissed and touched and loved by men was somehow more shameful and embarrassing than the crude physical release accepted as boys making due without women to satiate them. 

He’d soon come to the decision that he didn’t care about his inclinations - gambling and drinking were wrong and no one felt much remorse about those vices, why should he care about his indulgences in the pleasures of the flesh. But by its very nature it was always a secret. It had never crossed his mind that it could be anything else. And then Francis said it with such simplicity, _tell Richard about us_. 

And that small word, _us_. He’d never been an _us_ before.

“I think I’d quite like you to tell Richard,” Ash said. “I think I’d like your friends to know. I daren’t hope they’ll think me worthy of you but I hope they accept me all the same.

“It’s none of their business if you’re _worthy_ of me or not, and if Richard thinks he can pick and choose my lovers my fists will have something to say to his face,” Francis said with some bite in his voice. 

“No need to come to blows I hope,” Ash demurred. But he had a warm feeling in his chest at the thought of Francis defending his honor like that.

~*~

Ash adjusted his cravat, looking up at the simple facade of the club as he walked toward Quex's. He hadn’t been this nervous since that night some weeks ago when he'd gone to Francis's expecting ruin and humiliation. Tonight he wasn’t sure what to expect. To think, meeting Lord Richard Vane, not as Maltraver’s younger brother or a Duke’s son, but as Francis Webster’s lover. Certainly not a title he ever thought he would be known by in a club such as Quex’s, and the exposure of it left him uneasy. Still, he trusted Francis, and he trusted Francis’s friends.

He found Francis at the tables inside, looking more distracted than usual - not that someone less familiar with Francis’s nuances of expression would be able to tell. Francis won his game anyway, and stood after collecting his winnings, saying something about a drink as he steered Ash toward the back of the house again.

The footman let them up immediately this time, and they took the stairs up to a tastefully furnished room, lit by several branches of candles to a welcoming brightness. Lord Richard was standing by a sideboard while Dominic Frey and Julius Norreys had taken chairs by the unlit fireplace. They moved in enough of the same circles that Ash had been introduced to all of them at one time or another, but they were older than he was and well respected. Ash felt more like a student called in front of the headmaster than a man meeting his peers.

“Lord Gabriel,” Richard said formally.

Ash held out his hand to shake. “Ash, please. I must say I never thought to meet you under these circumstances.”

Mr. Frey snorted. “I daresay we never thought to see you here either,” he said. “There’s no love lost between Richard and your brother,”

“Nor between him and me,” Ash said emphatically. “Mal, I mean.”

There was an awkward pause as no one took up the thread of conversation. Mr. Frey cleared his throat. “We hear you’re learning cards from Francis,” he said, an obvious but welcome change of subject.

Ash smiled ruefully. “He is trying to teach me. I’m afraid I’m not a very good student.” He met Francis’s eye and saw the other man looking back with such bare affection it made him shiver.

“He’s getting much better,” Francis said. “Ash doesn’t always know his own best qualities.”

“Francis why don’t you go fetch a deck,” Mr. Norreys said. “We’ll have a game.”

Francis turned to leave and Ash moved to go with him, but Mr. Norreys called him back. “Stay, Lord Gabriel. Francis will only be a minute.”

The door shut behind Francis with a click. Ash felt the walls were somehow closer than they were a moment ago, the air stuffier. 

“Did you see Mendoza’s fight last week?” Mr. Frey asked politely.

“Yes!” Ash leapt at the conversational foothold. “I bet against him though, silly of me. Were you there?”

“No, I’m not much for fighting in any form, but Richard boxes, don’t you Richard?”

“Yes, at Jackson’s,” Richard said.

There was another pause.

“I prefer fencing myself,” Mr. Norreys chimed in.

Mr. Frey smiled at Ash’s look of surprise. “He may look like a purely decorative object but he’s quite deadly with a rapier. If you’re ever looking for a bout I’m sure he’d be happy to hone his skills against you.”

Ash demurred, saying he preferred watching sports to participating in them. He asked Richard about his boxing practice, and as Mr. Frey encouraged him not to be so modest Ash slowly realized they were _making an effort_. They wanted him to feel welcome here, and the thought warmed and comforted him like a fresh cup of tea. They obviously had very little in common. He was younger, less respected, more rash. But in one significant way they were more alike than any of the other men of the _ton_.

Francis rushed up the stairs a moment later.

“I’m so sorry, I got cornered by Turner and couldn’t find an excuse to leave for ages. I hope you got on all right while I was downstairs?”

“Perfectly,” Ash said, and Francis smiled.

~*~

Richard closed the door behind him; Ash sighed and slumped back in his chair.

“I’m not sure what I expected but that wasn’t it,” he said, loosening his cravat.

Francis’s lips twitched in a hint of a smile. He was sitting on the settle, his empty glass discarded on a side table. He looked relaxed, Ash noticed, which wasn’t very common outside their own rooms. “It wasn’t that bad, was it?” Francis asked. “I think Richard was rather taken with you once he realized you weren’t your brother.”

“He’s not a bad sort at all. A bit stiff, but not bad,” Ash said. After Francis had returned Richard had droned on for some time about the importance of keeping to a moral code as if they weren’t a bunch of sodomites in a gambling hell. Ash had nodded earnestly, feeling like a schoolboy trying to show the headmaster that he _would_ stay out of trouble this time. Meanwhile Norreys jumped in with pointed wit at opportune times to keep anyone from getting too serious and Frey observed with a cool temperament that reminded Ash of Francis. 

“I’ve never wanted a man’s good opinion so badly as I wanted theirs tonight,” said Ash. “At least, not since I saw you.”

“Well they thought well enough to leave you alone with me. Shall we take advantage of that?”

Ash smirked. Standing, he took the two strides it took to get to Francis and sat next to him, leaning into the other man’s embrace. “It’s somehow more exciting isn’t it, fucking up here when half of London’s gentlemen are down below.” 

Francis pulled Ash into his lap and nibbled his ear. “You’re depraved, my darling.”

Ash didn’t argue. He just captured Francis’s lips with his own, and lost himself to pleasure.


End file.
